


Gifts

by Valessari



Category: World of Warcraft
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-13
Updated: 2020-09-13
Packaged: 2021-03-06 15:53:32
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 687
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26451403
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Valessari/pseuds/Valessari
Summary: Wrote this way back in 2018 around Winter veilit was just a fun little exchange drabble about the gifts they have exchanged over the years.
Relationships: Nathanos Blightcaller/Sylvanas Windrunner
Kudos: 12





	Gifts

A dark ranger approached him, carrying a missive from the Warchief, 

”A gift from the Queen.” she set a plan wooden box on the table in front of him, well this is unexpected.  
An exquisite dagger of carved bone, with a leather grip, perfectly balanced, not something you could regularly buy off a smith in Orgrimmar. This was made by a master craftsman. This is frivolous, she shouldn’t have have gone to the trouble, but the fact that she did, for him, he could hardly contain his amusement. He noticed that the Ranger had not made any move to leave, “was there anything else?” he his patience was already spread thin, he practically growled at her. 

“she asked me to wait. The queen wanted me to report to her your reaction.” of course she did, this was a game of theirs, he liked provoking her, the more he refused to play to her whims the harder she tried to win his affection, this game of cat and mouse, thrilled him. 

He did his best not to let the ranger see his true emotions, his response was laced with indifference, “You can tell her it’s satisfactory.” 

The ranger looked disappointed, the queen would not be happy with his answer and she may take it out on the messenger. “Perhaps I will reciprocate and send her the head of the first Alliance officer I kill with it.” Nathanos said with a slight smirk, that would be all he offered in return. 

Weeks had passed since Sylvanas has given him a dagger, to which he was appreciative, it had helped him vanquish many Alliance in her name here in Zandalar as well as in Kul Tiras. He never did send her anything in return, Nathanos felt the faint tug of regret. 

It was almost Winter Veil and although the war campaign had taken up a lot of his time, and the idea of celebrating frivolous holiday’s made his blood boil with disgust, a long dormant part of him wished to reciprocate her affections, it was a stupid and sentimental weakness, but the pull was strong. 

He couldn’t just get her anything, he mused to himself, in another life, he enjoyed giving her simple gifts, and she enjoyed receiving them, but that was a life long lost. Would the Banshee Queen even appreciate such gifts anymore? Nathanos struggled with himself for a few moments, choosing to leave the Banshee’s Wail in the hands of her captain, he walked down the pier towards the beach to give himself some privacy to brood. 

Nathanos stared out at the crystal blue water along the bay, memories of the last day he saw Sylvanas alive swirling through his head. That fateful day, the one where he had to leave her and return home, he remembered the pang of regret he felt in leaving her, one he hadn’t felt in the many years they were together, maybe he instinctively knew that was the last time he’d see her. That day he had pulled a shell out of the sand and had left it on her bedside table. He scoured the beach at his feet looking for a new shell, would it be sentimental or would it bring up feelings they had no business reviving from the dead?. 

There were no shells to be found but then Nathanos came upon a clump of flowers, nestled between some rocks on the sea’s edge. Sea stalks, these flowers were called. The troll fisherman on the docks were always telling stories of this plant. When out at sea, sailors would hold one close, their family would hold the other. The plant was hearty and resilient, it did not need water or sunlight, not unlike undead, he mused. The flowers would only survive together, when one wilted so did the other. Nathanos squatted down and contemplated the plant for a few moments. It was sentimental, but it wasn’t bringing up past wounds. It was a promise of a future, as long as she survived he would fight for survival by her side. He plucked two long stemmed blooms from the plant.


End file.
